Crap at the end of the tunnel

Not that it makes any difference to anyone out there, but I have been down all week with a bad head cold. Although I had two reprieves-- what's the opposite of "relapse?"-- and made an outing each time, for the rest of the week I have been cooped up, sniffling, snorting, coughing, aching, and imbibing a nearly constant flow of liquids and tablets in an attempt to not feel like I am actually dying.

In other news, a friend reports that Tim Burton and Johnny Depp have utterly ruined Sondheim's Sweeney Todd, which is just a damned shame. Years ago, in high school, my drama teacher managed to finagle a videotape of a performance by the original Broadway cast, including Angela Landsbury and Len Cariou, which was jusy mesmerizing. I have never seen anyone put such heart into the role of an oblivious hussy as Landsbury, and Cariou . . . Let's just say he managed to be, by turns, pathetic, beat down, manic, and terrifyingly cold. It was a helluva thing. So, although I will certainly credit him with other triumphs in roles I will never forget, from here on out, Johnny Depp can get @#$%ed.